The Phantom of the Moulin Rouge
by The Lark
Summary: A mean parody slavemaster forces Erik and company to perform Moulin Rouge.


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The Phantom of the Moulin Rouge

By The Lark

Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrman and POTO belongs to Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and anyone else who may have copyrighted it over the years. Go ahead and sue me if you want, but you're not going to get much out of it.

Me: *claps hands together enthusiastically* Alright everyone, come over here to the stage. Come on, let's move, people!

Erik: *glare* Don't you order me about, young lady. *fingers his Punjab lasso menacingly* The last person who tried that…*trails off into a burst of evil laughter*

All: *step back warily*

Me: *smiles condescendingly* Ah, Erik, how many times must I tell you? I am the author--nobody can harm me. *notices Raoul sneaking up behind her with a gun* HEY! Put that weapon down, Vicomte!

Erik *smacks his forehead* This is what I get for letting the boy be the trigger man. *whacks Raoul over the head with Punjab lasso"

Raoul: *cries, rubbing his head* Ow! *runs over to Christine* Christine, that mean old man hit me!

Christine: *sighs wearily* I'll get the Band-Aids. 

Raoul: *brightens* Thank you, dear. Bring the ones with the pretty yellow ducks on them!

Me: *whistles shrilly* Will you all just sit down and be quiet!

*Everyone winces and holds their ears, but they obey*

Me: *nods with satisfaction* That's better. *hands out scripts* Now, everyone, we're going to put on a parody.

All: *in unison* D'oh!

Meg Giry: *raises a hand* Excuse me?

Me: Yes, Meg?

Meg: Can't you just shoot us instead?

Me: *scowls* That's enough whining! If I hear one more complaint, we are going to do another Les Miz crossover.

Christine: *Looks horrified* No! No! I refuse to be compared to Cosette one more time!

Raoul: *turns green* You think THAT is bad? At least you aren't expected to make friends with that Marius idiot…

Erik: *jumps to his feet in outrage* And I refuse to fall in love with that Eponine chick ever again! She's got problems! Scary problems…

Mme Giry: *shoves Erik* Sit down, Erik!

Erik: *sneering* Make me!

Mme Giry: *smirk* Fine. If you don't start behaving, I'll just have to tell everyone who Meg's REAL father is.

Erik: *nervously clamps a hand over her mouth* Alright, alright, I'm sitting.

Me: *barely containing laughter* Thank you. Now that everyone is all settled, let's go over the story. We're going to be putting on Moulin Rouge.

Andre: *groans* You mean that horrible movie musical with the all the wacko scenery that looks like something out of a cocaine fantasy?

Me: Exactly, Andre

Firmin: *folds his arms stubbornly* No! I refuse!

Me: Oh, the only reason you can't appreciate that movie is because you're colorblind, Firmin. Now, let me read the cast. Erik, you will play Christian.

Erik *looks confused* Why? Was he an artistic genius who wore a mask and hid under an opera house?

Me *picks up a bag full of props* Well, he _was_ artistic, but he didn't have a mask. Don't worry, though, I have a perfect solution . *pulls out a very lifelike mask that looks like Ewan McGregor and hands it to Erik* There. Now you're pretty enough for the role

Erik: *is a little disgruntled, but puts it on*

Christine: *Looks at Ewan/Erik and begins to sigh, fanning herself*

Raoul: *shakes Christine, trying to get her attention back* Hey!

Me: And you, Christine, will play Satine.

Christine: I never saw this movie. Who is Satine? *To Meg* Is that even a real name?

Me: Satine is the singing prostitute

Christine: *flushes red with indignance* Me! A prostitute! How dare you?! *To Raoul* Raoul, do something!

Raoul: *staring off into space with an idiotic grin* Mmmm…Singing hooker…*begins to drool*

Erik: *To Christine* Just say the word and I'll get my lasso back around his neck.

Christine: I'll fight my own battles, thank you. *slaps Raoul across the face*

Me *snicker* And you, Raoul, will play the Duke

Raoul: Hey! Why do I have to be the evil one? Erik is the criminal! Why can't I play Christian? I AM the cute one, you know.

Me: Quiet! This is my parody, and what I say goes!

Raoul: *stands up indignantly* I'm not going to stand here and be knocked around by some girl who belongs in an insane asylum. *glances at Christine and mutters under his breath* I've had enough of that for one lifetime. *marches toward the exit*

Me: Uh, Raoul, I really think that's a bad idea

Raoul: *irritably* And why is that?

Me: Because I'm the only one protecting you from that angry mob of E/C shippers outside

Raoul: *opens the door to find a swarm of girls in POTO shirts, all carrying torches and chanting "Burn, Raoul, burn!"* Eck! *scurries back to his seat* Okay, okay *sulkingly* I'll be the stupid villain.

Erik: *pokes Raoul mockingly* Nobody loves you! Nobody loves you!

Me: Everybody settle down! *motions to a shadowy figure slinking down the hallway* Get in here, Persian, I know that's you out there!

The Persian: *reluctantly takes his seat with the others* Drat! 

Me: You may be elusive, but nobody escapes the clutches of an all-powerful Parody Slavedriver. Now, you're going to play Henri-Marie Raymond Toulouse-Lautrec Montfa.

The Persian: *wrinkles his brow in confusion* The dwarf? Aren't I a little tall for a dwarf?

Me: Yes. Just tie your shoes to your knees and you should be fine.

The Persian: This is so degrading…

Me: *rattles off the rest of the list before anyone else can complain* Mme Giry will play Marie, Meg will play Nini, Phillipe, Reyer, Piangi and Buquet will be the rest of the bohemians, and Firmin and Andre will be Zidler, who I have changed into two people for convenience's sake.

Firmin: Why do we have to share a role?

Me: Because I have trouble telling you apart, so it's easier for me this way. 

Carlotta: *tossing her hair haughtily* And why am I not in this?

Me: *grin* Because I don't like you well enough to waste time making you look like an idiot

Carlotta: *flounces off conceitedly* Hmph!

Me *waving my hands at the characters* Alright, now, places people!

SCENE ONE-A VERY DREARY LOOKING GARRET

Me *switches on CD player*

* "Nature Boy" begins to play in the background*

Erik *Very dirty and unkempt, slumped miserably on the floor in front of a typewriter* This story is about love. The woman I loved is…dead.

Me *standing backstage with a clipboard, whispering prompts to the characters* Good, Erik. Take a drink of absinthe.

Erik *frowns* No. Alcohol is for the weak.

Me: I don't care--it's in the script

Erik: *takes a swig and begins to mutter* What's this guy got to be so depressed about? At least she didn't dump him for some snob. 

Me: Just stick to the script!

Erik: *types* The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return… *looks sad, glares at me* Way to remind me of my own ill-fated relationship! I hope you're happy!

Me: *puts her face in her hands* Let's just skip ahead to a lighter scene, hm?

Erik: *now neatly groomed and wearing a dress suit. He steps into somewhat less dreary garret and begins to dance happily* Hah! I'm going to be a penniless poet, and you can't stop me, Dad!

Me: *sigh* Close enough…

Erik: *takes out typewriter and begins to type* Now I'm free to ramble about love as much as I like! *turns to me* Isn't that a little bit less than realistic? This grown man is acting like some kind of inane teenaged girl.

Me: I think he's charming. Now go on.

Erik: *gets into yoga position, shuts eyes, and begins to hum* Come to me, inspiration! Come on! Come on!

Buquet: *falls through ceiling* I am so damned sick of falling from ceilings that I could scream…

The Persian: *appears in doorway, dressed as a nun* Oh, dear! Now who am I going to get to star in my play?

Erik: *looks up* That was fast!

CUT TO UPSTAIRS GARRET, WHICH SPORTS A CARDBOARD CUTOUT OF THE ALPS AND A LARGE HOLE IN THE FLOOR

The Persian: *winces, looking down at his nun costume* This has got to be against some law…

Erik *Motions toward his own ridiculous Swiss goatherd get-up* I know how you feel, Nadir.

Me: *clears her throat loudly*

The Persian *sighs* The hills animate with euphonious symphonies of desca-a-a-AAAAANT! A-A-AAAAA! 

*Several windows shatter*

Erik: Is that why you were left out of the musical, Nadir?

The Persian: *looks hurt* The hills…

Erik: The hills…

Buquet: The hills-!

Phillipe: The hills-!

Piangi: The hills-!

Erik: The hills-!

Reyer: The hills-!

The Persian: The hills-!

Buquet: The hills-!

Phillipe: The hills-!

Piangi: The hills-!

Erik: The hills-!

Reyer: The hills-!

Erik: *snarls* If you don't let me be heard, I'll break you all like twigs!

Me: Erik! Stay in character.

Erik: *sullenly* Fine. *sings* The hills are alive/With the sound of musiiiiiiiic!

*Everyone stares blankly*

Me: *hissing at them* You're supposed to get all impressed!

Phillipe: Why should we be? He just stole copyrighted material from Rodgers and Hammerstein!

Erik: Yeah, I could do much better than this. *breaks into "Music of the Night"*

Me: *to the Persian* Maybe we'd better just end this scene as quickly as possible.

The Persian: _Gladly_. *to Erik* We've found our new writer!

Reyer: But I'm the writer!

Erik: *kicks Reyer through the hole in the floor* You've just been ousted.

The bohemians: Yay!

*Everyone begins to drink absinthe. Lots and lots and LOTS of absinthe*

THE NEXT EVENING IN AN UNREALISTICALLY GAUDY NIGHTCLUB…

The Persian *whispers to Erik* Okay, now here's the deal. You're gotta read some of your genius poetry to Satine so she'll be able to convince Firmin and Andre…uh, that is, to convince Harry and Barry Zidler to let us produce our play here.

Erik: *dusting off his new tuxedo* Kay! And if the Zidlers say no, we'll just hang them!

The bohemians: *groan*

The Persian: No! No killing! There's a set script--they have to say yes.

Erik: Just as well. That nasty little parody slavedriver took away my lasso.

Me: *changes CD track to "Lady Marmalade"*

Andre and Firmin: *dance out with a bunch of gaudily dressed women behind them* 

Firmin: *singing* Outside it may be raining--

Andre: But in here it's entertaining! 

Christine: *swings down from the ceiling on a trapeze * The French are glad to die for love. They delight in fighting duels. But I prefer a man who lives and gives expensive… jewels

Me: Now dance

Christine: *winces in degradation* Raoul! Tell her she can't make me do this!

Me: You're a chorus girl. You must dance all the time

Christine: Not in a skimpy costume in front of a bunch of drooling old men!

Raoul: *Too busy ogling all the scantily clad women to answer*

Christine: Grrrr! *jumps off trapeze and into mosh pit* A kiss on the hand may be quite continental/But diamonds are a girl's best--AGH! _Put me down_! Help! *scrambles away from the crowd* I refuse to continue with this horrible scene unless you find some less grabby men for this mosh pit!

Me: *rolls eyes* Fine, fine. *turns to audience* The long and short of it is that Satine thinks Christian is the Duke, and that she has to sleep with him in order to become a real actress, and Christian thinks he has to perform his poetry for Satine in order to become a real writer. *runs offstage* Next time I do a parody, I'm using those nice, compliant Hunchback of Notre Dame people…

CUT TO HIGHLY LUXURIANT ROOM INSIDE A GIANT ELEPHANT STATUE

Christine: *wearing an even more revealing outfit than before* Nice place for a poetry reading, isn't it? *refuses to look at anything other than the floor* P-p-poetic enough for you?

Erik: Yes *trying to very hard not to gawk and failing miserably*

Christine: Care for a little champagne?

Erik: I'd, uh, rather just get it over and done with

Christine: *stamps foot* And will you stop staring at me?

Me: Stick to the script!

Christine: *less than wholeheartedly throws Erik on nearby bed* Let's make love

Erik: Okay!

Me: Erik!

Erik: *pushes Christine off of him and gets up* I gave it a shot *begins to babble* It's a little bit funny/This feeling inside/I'm not one of those who can easily hide *glances quizzically at the parody slave master* This is his _genius poetry?_ It doesn't even make sense!

Me: Christine, you missed your cue

Christine: *now redder than a tomato* I won't do it!

Me: *threatening* Would you like to do a RENT parody tomorrow?

Christine: *sulkingly* No, ma'am. *grudgingly slumps to the floor and beings to roll around like a nutcase* Yes! Naughty words! Yes! Yes! Naughty! Naughty! Don't stop!

Raoul: *faints*

Erik: *looking ready to call the nuthouse* I know its not much/But it's the best I can do.

Me: Now begin "Your Song"

Erik: Silently the senses/Abandon their defenses/Helpless to resist the notes I write

Me: What are you doing?

Erik: *innocently* Singing my song

Me: Not your song-- "Your Song", it…just quit being obtuse!

Erik: *pretending not to hear* Close your eyes, start a journey to a strange new world/Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before…

Me: *dismisses audience* Intermission, everyone. This could take awhile…

BACKSTAGE

Me: *throws clipboard into the air in frustration* Alright, guys, that was way uncalled for.

Erik: *hold up his hands, feigning surprise* What? What did I do?

Me: *points finger at Erik* Don't play stupid with me, Monsieur Phantom. *addressing entire cast* You've already earned yourselves a bad Caberet parody with your little shenanigans out there.

All: D'oh!

Me: *threateningly* Now are you going to behave, or do you want to try for an Aspects of Love parody?

*The room falls silent, all of the characters pale with horror*

Christine: We'll be good!

*The room suddenly echoes with loud agreements*

Me: *gathers up her clipboard* Good. Now that we understand each other, lets get back out there and finish up. I _do_ have homework to get to tonight. *waves everyone back to their places*

Christine: *returns to her unenthusiastic writhing on the floor* Don't stop. Naughty words. Don't stop.

Me: You're really a pretty lousy actress. No WONDER Erik had to commit extortion to get you a job!

Erik: *standing at window of elephant* Er, where were we again?

Me: "Your Song", Erik. That's ELTON JOHN'S "Your Song"! No funny stuff this time!

Erik: Right. *turns around* Won't people think this is a little weird? This guy's supposed to be a genius poet from turn of the century Paris and every song he sings belongs to some pop artist from the seventies?

Me: If you want to complain, take it up with Baz Luhrman. Now go!

Erik: *looking a little bored* My gift is my song. And this one's for you. And you can tell everybody that this is your song…

Me: *to Christine* Okay, go to him

Christine: *halts her half-hearted wriggling, muttering in relief* Thank heavens THAT's over!

Erik: *still singing* It may be quite simple, but now that it's done. I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words…How wonderful life is, now you're in the world…

Me: *turns on fog machine*

The Persian: *Sets up miniature Eiffel Tower*

Buquet: *sets up some machine that shoots sliver glitter from the ceiling*

Piangi: *hands Erik a garish florescent pink umbrella*

Erik: *frowns at me* Is the pink umbrella really necessary? What am I--some kind of sissy? 

Me: I'm following the script, here. Unlike SOME people! *looks pointedly at Erik*

Christine: *sneezes and coughs uncontrollably* And could you turn down those machines? I'm choking on the fog and I think I'm allergic to this glitter.

Me: *sarcastic* Fine, your majesty *signals to Buquet*

Erik: *whirls Christine out into the fog* _And you can tell everybody this is your song! It may be quite simple, but now that it's_-YAH! *trips and falls into fog, accidentally knocking Christine over in the process*

Christine: Get off me! You…*gets drowsy from the fog and trails off, her irritation forgotten*

Me: Grr! Erik…

Erik: *defensive* My credentials say "Artistic genius, master killer, dark seducer and brilliant inventor". Nowhere do I claim to be a good dancer.

Me: *exasperated* Just finish the bloody song.

Erik: *picks up the semi-conscious Christine and twirls her back to window* How wonderful life is/Now you're in the world!

Christine: *Still kind of loopy from inhaling the fake fog* Mmm, that's pretty-ful. My duke is so artistic…*Tries to kiss Erik, but ends up conking her head on his chin instead* Ouch…

Erik: I'm not a duke. I'm a writer.

Christine: *starts to wake up* Uhh, line?

Me: "A writer?"

Christine: A writer?

Erik:Yes, that ugly little man who walks on his knees sent me.

The Persian: Hey! YOU are calling another person ugly? Isn't that a little hypocritical?

Erik: Shut up, Nadir. I don't need you anymore; I have this pretty mask now!

Christine: D'oh! Not another one of those stupid penniless Bohemians!

Erik: Well…

Christine: Then where's the real Duke?

Raoul: Huzzah! Time for my part! *strolls up to door* Yoo-hoo! Pretty lady!

Me: Now you're supposed to hide Erik under your skirts.

Christine: *Her eyes look like they will fall right out of their sockets* What?!

Me: *waves script menacingly* Remember the Aspects of Love parody!

Christine *scowls at Erik* If I see you laugh ONCE!

Erik: *smothers laughter in his sleeve*

Raoul: Hello Mademoiselle, I--YAH! *notices Christine's skimpy outfit and begins to stare even worse than Erik did* Oh my…I feel another faint coming on…*thunk*

Christine: *shrugs* Well, looks like time for some improv *grabs Raoul by the feet and drags his limp body outside, shutting the door* You jerk! *advances angrily on Erik* If he'd seen you there would have been a disaster!

Erik: Sorry. Do you want me to kill him for you? That should keep him quiet.

Me: Erik, for the last time, Christian doesn't kill anyone in this movie.

Erik: Well, perhaps if he had, things would have worked out better for him!

Me: *turns on fog machine right in Christine's face, hoping to speed the scene along*

Christine: *faints onto Erik* Mmm, all the pretty colors…

Erik: *Picks up the fainting Christine and carries her to the bed* Uh-oh. This isn't going well at all. *trips and falls onto Christine*

Raoul: *comes to* Hey? What happened to Christine? *opens door and sees Christine and Erik on the bed* AAAAAAAAGH! AAAAAAAAAGH! AAAAAAGH!

Christine: *groggily* It isn't what you think, Duke. He's the writer of Spectacular Spectacular. We were only rehearsing.

Raoul: Rehearsing a play! That's the oldest excuse in the book! I'm not that stupid!

The Bohemians: *Tumble in through the window* Sorry we're late for the rehearsal!

Christine: Whew! Saved!

Andre: *bursts in through the door* Satine!

Firmin: What the heck is going on in here?

Erik: Uh, rehearsing?

Andre: Who are you?

Christine *through clenched teeth* Remember the new writer? *jerks her head pointedly at the suspicious Raoul*

Firmin: *plays along* Oh, yeah, yeah, rehearsing!

Me: Good work, people, go into "The Pitch"

Firmin: *sings* Spectacular Spectacular! No words in the vernacular--

Andre: That's MY part!

Firmin: Is not!

Raoul: Wasn't I supposed to have more lines than this?

The Persian-Yeah! Me too!

Erik: Hey, what happened to my part? Remember the part where my character has to come up with that thinly disguised metaphor that he turns into a play?

Me: *looking at the pandemonium that has broken out among the annoyed actors* It's over Erik. Why don't we just forget about this scene for awhile?

Erik: With pleasure

Me: *addressing audience* Suffice it to say, the Duke invests.

CUT TO BACK TO CHRISTIAN'S DREARY GARRET

Erik: *sitting in windowsill, sighing dreamily* How wonderful life is, now you're in the world…

CUT BACK TO SATINE'S GARISH ELEPHANT ROOM

Christine: *sitting in window sighing sadly*

CUT TO BACK TO CHRISTIAN'S DREARY GARRET

Erik: *sitting in windowsill, sighing dreamily*

CUT BACK TO SATINE'S GARISH ELEPHANT ROOM

Christine: *sitting in window sighing sadly*

CUT TO BACK TO CHRISTIAN'S DREARY GARRET

Erik: *sitting in windowsill, sighing dreamily*

CUT BACK TO SATINE'S GARISH ELEPHANT ROOM

Christine: *sitting in window sighing sadly*

CUT TO BACK TO CHRISTIAN'S DREARY GARRET

Erik: *sitting in windowsill, sighing dreamily*

CUT BACK TO SATINE'S GARISH ELEPHANT ROOM

Christine: *sitting in window sighing sadly*

CUT BACK TO-

Erik: *angrily pounds windowsill with his fist* Alright, they get the picture!

CUT BACK TO SATINE'S GARISH ELEPHANT ROOM

Christine: *sighs again* This job sucks.

Me: Do the song.

Christine: *climbs up to roof of elephant and begins to sing* One day I'll fly away. Leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me? Why live life from dream to dream? And dread the day the day when dreaming ends…

Me: *hides tears behind a Kleenex*

Christine: Singing on a roof. There's something very familiar about this…

Me: Drat! We almost had a decent scene…

Erik: *crawls up onto roof* Hello!

Christine: *spins around* AAAAAAAAAGH! How did you get up here?

Erik: Climbed up the wall

Christine: *looks down* It's five stories high! What are you, some kind of stalker?!

Erik: *to me* Stalker, huh? I'm beginning to see why you cast me in this part… *to Christine* I'm sorry, I was just wondering…when you though I was the Viscount-uh, the Duke, I mean-you told me you loved me.

Christine: *Has forgotten her lines again, decided to go with improv again* I was pretending, stupid! I can't fall in love!

Erik: But a life without love! That's terrible! *glances at the script and cringes* This is so corny, do I really have to say it?

Me: Yes. We are NOT skipping the "Elephant Love Medley"

Erik: *shuts eyes as if he is being forced to scrape his nails on a chalkboard* Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love!

Christine: Please don't start that again

Erik: *sings* I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for lovin' me

Christine: The only way of lovin' me baby is to pay a lovely fee.

Me: *to assistant directors* Yes! Finally they're doing a scene right!

Erik: *runs out onto elephant's head* Here I go again! Love lifts us up where we belong! *balancing precariously* Where eagles fly, on a mountain high!

Christine: Get down! Get down!

Erik: *draws his cape around himself and vanishes in a puff of smoke, reappearing on the stairs*

Me: Erik, there are no optical illusions in this scene!

Erik: Force of habit. Sorry. *throws his arms around Christine* How wonderful life is now you're in the world…*sigh* How many more times will I be repeating that stupid line?

Christine: You're going to be bad for business, I can tell *kisses Erik* Hmm. That wasn't so bad now that you're pretty.

Raoul: *from backstage* Christine!

Me: Shut up, Raoul.

Erik: *to me* Thank you. *to audience* Yes, how wonderful life was, now Satine was in the world. But with the Duke, Harry and Barry had gotten more than they had bargained for…

Raoul: I will finance your silly little play, but in return, you must support my unhealthy obsession with Satine.

Firmin and Andre: Deal!

CUT TO THEATER FULL OF REHEASING ACTORS, STAGEHANDS, ETC.

Erik: Okay, everybody, so the courtesan is in love with the penniless writer…uh, sitar player…who has to seduce the evil duke…uh, maharajah. Yeah, that's it…

Raoul: *making calf eyes at Christine* So did I mention I was captain of my college chess team?

Erik: *clears his throat loudly* 

Christine: *to Raoul* Oh, I'd love to hear all about it, but I have to go rehearse with my penniless sitar player…uh, writer.

Raoul: *smiling blindly* Okay! Bye! *to Firmin and Andre* I think she digs me!

CUT TO BACKSTAGE CLOSET WHERE ERIK IS MAKING OUT WITH CHRISTINE.

Firmin: *unsuspectingly opens closet door* AAAAAAAGH!

Andre: AAAAAGH! You idiot! The Duke is going to crush us!

Firmin: Our necks are on the line and you're dallying with the writer!

Christine: *sighs and gazes swooningly at Erik in his Ewan McGregor mask* But I like him better than that yucky old duke…*sigh*

Raoul: *cheerfully skips backstage* Hi everybody! What's all the-- *spots Erik with Christine* AAAAAAAGH! *his eyes roll back into his head and he falls onto his face*

Andre: *feels for a pulse* He's dead!

Christine: *kisses Ewan/Erik* Hooray!

Erik: And I have all these witnesses to prove it wasn't my doing!

Me: *bends to scrape Raoul off the floor* Well, you took a few liberties, but the tragic ending just doesn't seem to fit this stupid story. Dismissed! *sigh*

*Everyone cheers*

Me: And don't forget to meet back here tomorrow for Caberet!

All: D'oh!


End file.
